Simply Breathtaking
by CharlotteRay
Summary: "What does she want from him? Friendship? Please. He didn't want friends! He didn't NEED friends. How long did he have to ignore her for that fact to get through her fucking head. Shit, most kids didn't like him. Most kids kept their distance. But...she's not like most kids. What's wrong with her?"
1. Tiffany V

Simply Breathtaking

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

* * *

Tiffany V.

* * *

It's the year 1968. Ten year old Charles Lee Ray was sprawled in his sheets, dead to the world. His face, buried in his pillow was devoid of any emotion as he slept. This could be described as a peaceful image.

Well, until his alarm clock went off.

The shrill sound of the metal rods hitting the bells at rapid speed did its job of waking up the poor boy. Startled, he shot up from his sleeping position, looking around frantically in his room. Realizing his alarm's presence, his startled expression turned into that of growing annoyance. He slammed his fist down on the clock's head, silencing it for the rest of the day.

After a few minutes, he managed to drag himself out of bed. It's 7:30 am on a Wednesday morning, he had to get ready for school and catch the bus for 8. He made his way to the bathroom after grabbing his school uniform from the small wardrobe to the right of his bed. Making his way from his bedroom and the bathroom and back to his bedroom was the most stressful part of his morning. Mainly due to the fact that he wouldn't want to wake his parents. Especially his father.

To say his parents weren't the BEST would be a huge understatement judging from the carefully hidden bruises adorning his body and the constant look of contempt and disdain he had whenever anyone mentioned them.

Inhale.

Exhale.

He has to stay calm.

" You're good." he whispered to himself. After his normal morning routine of brushing his teeth, washing his face, and combing back his hair, he slipped on his uniform. Walking back to his room to get his backpack, he made sure to be as quiet as possible. He grabbed his backpack and headed for the front door.

" Alright", he adjusted his tie, " Let's get this shit over with."

He walked out the door to the bus stop.

* * *

It's cold. It's really cold. He should've gotten a jacket. He thought about walking back home to get it, but it's so far. The bus stop was a good 15 minute walk away from his house. He's surprised he didn't get kidnapped yet. There's a bunch of creepers lurking around this dump.

He stood there for a couple minutes looking down at his scuffed school shoes and then around at his surroundings.

The neighborhood he lived in wasn't the best. Shit, the state wasn't the best. He missed New Jersey (which wasn't any better).After losing his low paying carpenter job, Rudolph Lee Ray moved his wife and son to Chicago to find work. Finding a new job wasn't easy, but he eventually found one in plumbing. The pay was shit and sometimes he'd come home smelling like it too. The family could barely afford anything. It's gotten to the point where his mother sometimes had to work extra hours at the seedy bar she bartended at, leaving her son to fend for himself when his father came home.

Then again...

She wasn't much help when she WAS home.

He sighed in relief when he heard the humming of the school bus. It stopped before him in all its mustard colored glory. The door opened with a screech, revealing a husky woman. She smiled, nodding a good morning to the young boy. Charles returned the gesture and made his way to his usual seat. Left column, third seat to the back. It's the seat that no one sat at. It's old and worn. The seat belt didn't click. There were large rips in the leather. There's even a spring that stuck out the bottom. It reminded him of himself in a way.

He sat down, resting his backpack next to him. He leaned back, looked out the window, and watched his neighborhood disappear into the distance.

"You see him?"

Charles didn't move.

He just kept staring out the window.

Just keep watching the passing trees, Charles.

Don't get upset.

"Yeah, I see him. That's Charles Ray, right?"

He could already feel the vein in his temple throbbing.

"Yeah that's him. He's so creepy and quiet. He always looks like he's gonna get up and stab somebody."

 **That's it.**

Charles slowly turned his head to the two girls sitting in the seat behind him. His icy blue eyes shot daggers into theirs.

 **" Keep talkin' and the person I'm stabbin' will be you."** He said it low enough for only them to hear. The girls cowered in their seat, not saying a word.

He gave a curt nod before sitting back down, laying his forehead on the window. He scoffed.

' As if a scrawny shrimp like me could stab someone.'

* * *

Walking through the school entrance was always a struggle on his part. He always hesitated before being pushed in by the stampede of kids trying to race the bell. He clumsily maneuvered through the horde of peers, almost tripping over his own feet. He didn't bother being polite as he shoved people out of the way for walking too slow. They only have about 3 minutes to get to class before the bell rang. Anything longer than that, they'd be staying after school dusting chalk erasers and scraping gum off the bottom of desks. And another after school detention was the LAST thing Charles needed right now. He already got detentions for the stupid scuffles he constantly got into with his usual bullies. Getting one for being late would be the most asinine thing to do.

'Finally.' he muttered under his breath as he found his classroom just in time. He sat down at his usual spot: the desk closest to the door. That way, when class was dismissed, he had the easiest means of exit.

The moment the bell rang, Miss Donna, his fourth grade teacher, slowly shuffled through the door. She was hunched over but still had her ruby red lips spread out into a smile.

" Good morning, Class!" she cheerfully greeted adjusting her large cat eye glasses.

" Good morning, Miss Donna!" the class greeted back in unison.

" I hope you all are having a wonderful Wednesday morning! Today I have a bit of a surprise for you."

The class looked to Miss Donna in confusion. Charles leaned forward in his seat. A surprise? He wondered what it was.

Miss Donna sat her bag down on her desk. " We have a new addition to our class..." She turned to the still open door and gave whoever was standing there a reassuring smile. " It's okay, honey. They don't bite. Come on in."

A few moments had passed before whoever Miss Donna was talking to finally got the courage to walk in. The heels of her maryjanes clicked and clacked as she quickly walked in. When she turned to face the class, Charles noticed her anxious expression. Her eyes kept shifting to everyone in the class. With each glance, the more nervous she looked.

" Everyone," Miss Donna stood next to the girl," This is Tiffany. She just moved here from New Jersey. Everyone say hello to Tiffany."

" Hi, Tiffany!"

Tiffany, not looking any less nervous, lifted a shaky hand and waved.

" H-hello."

" Alright!" Miss Donna clapped, " Now that we're acquainted, why don't we start class, shall we? Tiffany, you can take a seat wherever you'd like." She said, going to her desk to open her lesson book.

"Um...o-okay."

She looked around at the different desks and there were a few empty seats. Her russet brown eyes widened once they met a pair of ice blue eyes; Charles's eyes. He looked down at his notebook. He started doodling in the margin as he screamed internally.

'Please don't sit next to me! Please don't sit next to me! Pick another desk! Pl-goddamnit she's sitting next to me! You gotta be kiddin' me!'

Sure enough, to his misfortune, Tiffany picked the desk right next to him. She pulled out a small notebook from her backpack before setting it down next to her.

"Let's get started!" Miss Donna began the lesson.

Roughly around 20 minutes into class, Charles noticed in his peripheral view Tiffany eyeing him. It was like she was studying his every feature, every movement, like she was trying to crack a code.

' Why are you staring at me?' he whispered, keeping his gaze on his notebook doodle. She jumped. She looked down at her notebook.

' I-I..." she stuttered. Charles raised an eyebrow. '...I'm sorry.' She began to fidget when she noticed him giving her a sideways glance. ' No reason really. I just..." she trailed off, ' I'm sorry.'

Charles sighed. ' Jus-'

" Charles."

He looked up to see Miss Donna with her head in his direction. One hand was on her hip and the other was in the middle of writing a problem on the chalkboard.

" Uh yes, Miss Donna?" he asked sheepishly.

" I hope I'm not interrupting something."

" NO!" he choked out, " Uh I-I mean no ma'am." he corrected himself. The last thing he wanted to do was get on Miss Donna's bad side. " I apologize." Embarrassed, his eyes dropped to his lap. He grimaced at the little horde of snickering kids seated behind him. Tiffany just stayed quiet, giving him a sidelong glance. She didn't mean to get him in trouble.

Miss Donna finished writing the problem on the board. " It's quite alright, Charles. Just make sure to pay attention. These problems are going to be on our next quiz."

" Yes, ma'am." he begrudgingly replied.

Tiffany shrank in her seat.

* * *

It was lunchtime. Charles slammed his tray of food down on the table before sitting down. What the fuck? What the **FUCK**? That phrase went through his head over and over as he stabbed his mashed potatoes with his spoon. The rest of class was shit. After his little mishap, Charles had to put up with the usual assholes who sat behind him laugh at his moment of misfortune. And it was all that girl's fault. What was her name? Tiffany? Yeah. Tiffany.

" Um hi." Speak of the devil. He looked up from his tray to see Tiffany sitting across from him. She gave him a small smile. Annoyed at her sudden intrusion, he set his spoon down and pushed his tray to the side. He folded his arms over the table.

" What do you want?"

" Uh I saw you sitting here alone and I thought that, you know, maybe you'd like some...company." She watched his face harden. She slowly set her lunch box down and sat down anyway. " Look, I'm really sorry about what happened in class. I didn't mean for you to get in trouble. I just-"

" Save it." He raised a hand, cutting her off mid sentence. He pulled his tray back to him and began eating. " It's fine."

"O-Okay." For a moment, she was silent. She quietly slid her lunchbox towards her before carefully opening it. She pulled out a sandwich. " So...Charles, right?" She asked softly.

" Yep." He scooped some potatoes into his mouth, " And you're Tiffany, right?" His eyes pierced hers. He watched her brown eyes shift from him to her sandwich before nodding and taking a bite of it. He still wondered why she had this obsession with watching his every move. His every motion and reaction. What is she trying to do? He barely even knew her and she him, and here she was trying to chitchat with him like they were friends. There was a moment where her timidity went away and she would try to strike conversation with him. He wouldn't answer. He just sat there and ignored her as he ate his lunch. Was he being rude? Yes. Was he being a jackass? Yes, again. But did he care? Not really.

.

.

.

And neither did Tiffany.

* * *

And that's how it was for the next couple of weeks. Charles would be doing his own thing, and Tiffany would be there. Following him, talking to him. It all left Charles wondering to himself: What does she want from him? Friendship? Please. He didn't want friends. He didn't NEED friends. How long did he have to ignore her for that fact to get through her fucking head. Shit, most kids didn't like him. Most kids kept their distance. But...she's not like most kids. What's wrong with her?

He pondered that before a hard rubber ball was slammed into his head.

He cried out in pain as he fell to the concrete floor of the playground. His scowl deepened at the laughter that followed.

" What's the matter, Charlie?! You look like you hurt yourself!" A condescending tone called out.

He knew that voice. He turned to it. Yup, it's him. Leonard Green. The main one of many who took time out of their busy (not) schedules to make his school life a living hell. They were about the same age, but Leonard was bigger than him. He glared at Leonard as he got back to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. It stung and he was pretty sure he was bleeding a bit as well. Great.

" What'dya want, Leonard?" His face was littered with contempt. Leonard only smirked. He picked up the ball and rested it under his arm. " I'm surprised you recognized me. I figured your pop's been hittin' ya so hard he gave you brain damage."

If looks could kill, Leonard would've dropped dead by now, but he was unfazed by Charles's death stare. " Aw did I make little Charlie Ray mad? What's your damage, Charlie? It's not like I brought up your **whore** mo-"

He wasn't able to finish that sentence. Charles's fist had already found its target: Leonard's mouth. The impact forced him to fall back. Only a little. Charles watched Leonard catch himself. The look of malice changed to that of shock as he watched a line of blood trail down Leonard's chin. He looked at his still clenched fist. Did he do that? He couldn't have. He didn't know what came over him.

The moment he looked up, Leonard's fist had connected with his cheek, knocking him to the ground. Soon the two boys were on the ground. Charles did as much as he could to get Leonard off of him. He punched, kicked, scratched, anything, but nothing seem to work.

 **"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"** A group of kids crowded around them. Some chanted for Leonard to kick Charles's scrawny ass and others chanted for them to stop. At this point, Leonard had a few scrapes from Charles's nails and a bruise surrounding the corner of his mouth where Charles had punched him. Charles had a black eye and a few bruises on his cheek and jaw from Leonard's fists. Leonard was preparing to give one last final blow before he was knocked over.

" Get off of him!"

Charles had his eyes clenched tight, but he recognized that voice anywhere. He groaned. Was it from the pain or was it from the sheer annoyance he felt? Charles decided it was both. He cracked open his eyes to see Tiffany standing over him.

" Step aside, ya chink! This ain't your fight." Leonard said, getting to his feet. Tiffany stood her ground.

" For starters, I'm only half chink get it right. 2nd, what are you gonna do if I don't?" Her tough facade almost broke when Leonard got in her face.

" **Then I'll pummel you into the fucking ground**." He growled.

Tiffany only smirked, " Oh please. Like you have the guts to hit a girl."

The stare-down they had lasted a few minutes before Leonard finally backed away. " Fine." he said, " You win." He wiped the blood from his lip and glared over at Chucky who was still on the ground. " You're lucky your little girlfriend was here to save you. Next time, I'll make sure she won't be."

And with that, he was gone. The circle of kids disbanded. Tiffany turned to face Charles who was struggling to get up. She rushed to his side. " Are you okay?!" She helped him to his feet. Their eyes met. Tiffany gave him a sad smile. Charles scowled and ripped his arm from her grip.

" Let me go." He stumbled over his feet. Tiffany grabbed his arm again, making sure he didn't fall. Charles, again, made her let go. " I said let me go!"

Tiffany took a step back. " I was just trying to help." She shot back, angered at his outburst. But then, her eyebrows raised in slight shock and concern.

"...Charles? Where did those bruises come from?" Her voice shook.

Charles looked at her confused. " What do you mean _'where did those bruises come from'_? Didn't you just see me get my ass kicked?"

Tiffany shook her head. " No, **those** bruises." She pointed to his stomach. Charles's confused stare moved to his midsection. 'Oh god. She sees them.' He frantically fumbled with his shirt. It was forcibly opened and pulled out of his pants during the fight. Tiffany could now see the many bruises he tried so hard to hide. He quickly buttoned and tucked in his shirt. He turned away from her.

" You didn't see anything."

"Charl-"

" You didn't see ANYTHING!"

" Charles, I want to help you."

" I DON'T WANT YOUR HELP!" His fists clenched, his eyes glazed over. He stared daggers into hers. " Why? Why are you always following me? Why are you always talking to me? Why are you always being so nice to me?! Why?!"

Tiffany began to fidget with the hem of her dress.

" W-well, I thought that since we're friends-"

" FRIENDS?!", he exclaimed. He took a step forward. " WE are not friends! I'm not your friend! I don't wanna be your friend. We were never FRIENDS! How long do I have to practically ignore you for that to get through your thick fucking skull?!"

" Charles, I-"

He took another step forward. " And you butting into my business is only going to make shit worse for me. You see that guy over there?" He briefly pointed to Leonard who was all the way across the playground, completely out of earshot. " He's gonna kick my ass twice as hard because of you! And now I gotta go home and show this to-" Charles stopped mid sentence. He needed to leave. He rushed to the exit. Tiffany followed.

" Wait!" She reached for his sleeve. She managed to grip the edge. " Wait! I ju-"

Her hand was smacked away. " No! You have been a thorn in my side since day ONE! Don't follow me! Don't talk to me! Don't even look at me!"

He got so close they were only inches apart.

" **Leave me ALONE**."

And with that, he went inside.

* * *

The cafeteria was empty...

Good.

Charles took the opportunity to slide down the wall, curl up into a ball, and let out the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes while he was outside. He gripped his hair as he held back choked sobs. He took deep breaths to make sure he didn't suffocate on his own misery. His heart kept racing and his chest burned. He sat up with his hand over his heart, and waited for it to calm down.

" Deep breaths, deep breaths." he panted as he pulled his knees to his chest. " You're okay, you're good."

He wasn't going to be okay for long.

He knew what he was going to face when school was over. He knew what was going to face when he got home.

But what he didn't know, was that on the opposite side of the wall, Tiffany was in the same position. Sitting with her back against the wall and her knees to her chest. Tears trailing down her cheeks as she gasped for air.


	2. Charles R and Tiffany V

Simply Breathtaking

* * *

CHAPTER TWO

* * *

Charles R. and Tiffany V.

* * *

Charles let out a long sigh as he limped through his front door. Today was a very eventful day to say the least. After some much needed alone time in the school cafeteria, he managed to pull himself together to get through the rest of the day once recess was over. He spent the majority of class with his head down, making sure to avoid eye contact with Miss Donna. Especially when she started to notice the slight swelling to his face and expressed concern. He told her he was fine and that there was nothing to worry about. It was obvious she wasn't convinced, but she let it be.

Tiffany wasn't there when he walked in. Actually, she wasn't there for the rest of class. During her absence, Charles couldn't stop himself from constantly making quick glances at her empty seat. Each time his eye shifted to it, the sudden image of her face from moments ago would appear in his mind. Her eyes glazing over, her lip quivering, her jaw clenching as she held back tears. Tears that **he** caused.

He sighed again. He shouldn't be feeling bad. She was being a nuisance for too long and needed to be put in her place. If she had caught on and left him alone, none of that would've had to happen. He wouldn't have had to explode like that. If she had just **kept her distance**...

" ...then no one would've gotten hurt." he finished the thought aloud.

After putting his bag down next to the coat rack, he walked to the kitchen to grab a drink. After grabbing a cola from the fridge, he noticed a note on the counter. He took a sip as he read it out loud.

 _"Charles,_

 _I'm working overtime again. There's a list of chores I need you to do before your father gets home. Practice your music. When your father gets home, make_

 _sure to tell him his plate's in the microwave. And remember **don't provoke him**. Love you, mom._"

He rolled his eyes at the last sentence. 'Don't provoke your father'. Really? He crumpled the note. Don't provoke your father, she says. The fuck does she know? Maybe he shouldn't be so easy to fucking provoke. Any little thing Charles did provoked him.

What are you looking at?

 **Smack!**

Why can't you do anything right?

 **Punch!**

I didn't come to America to end up with an ungrateful disappointment like you...

He felt a trickling down his arm. In his trance, he crushed his cola causing the soda to overflow.

He took a sharp breath, " Shit." He set his drink down. Quickly cleaning his mess, he decided to start on his list of chores. Working his way up, he managed to get them done in roughly thirty minutes. Though it was a two story home, the house was still rather small. There were only two bedrooms, one bathroom, and downstairs was only the living room and kitchen. Setting the broom aside, he stomped upstairs to his bedroom for a quick nap before his father came home.

* * *

" **CHAAAAAAARLES**!"

He shot up. The booming sound of his father's voice shook the house. He literally jumped out of bed and scrambled his way downstairs to meet the towering form of Rudolph Lee Ray. He trembled at the sight of his father's irritated expression.

" Y-yes sir?"

" Stand up straight!" Charles immediately followed orders. With his hands behind his back, he straightened his posture. Rudolph squinted his eyes in a glare before gesturing to the coat rack. " Why is this here?" he asked. His thick Austrian accent added weight to each word. Charles looked to where his father was gesturing.

His backpack.

He forgot it at the front door. His lip quivered as he tried to voice words. " I-I'm sorry, sir. I set it down before doing the chores. I forgot to bring it with me upstairs when I was done..."

Rudolph stared at Charles. Charles stared back. Those ice blue eyes, identical to Charles's very own, sent chills down the young boy's spine. As if his father felt his discomfort, he grimaced. He bent down to pick up Charles's backpack. He chucked it to the boy. Being slightly underweight and small for a child his age, the bag forced him to fall back just a little. Rudolph went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He narrowed his eyes at Charles while taking a long swig.

" **Don't do that shit again**." he said. There was a small threat in the tone his father decided to use. Charles knew this. He nodded, going up the stairs. He wasn't in trouble. Good. As he made his way up the steps, he could feel his father glaring a hole in the back of his head. Why was he staring at him? He was taken from his thoughts by him falling backwards.

His father was pulling him back.

The boy would've fallen on his behind if Rudolph didn't have such a vice grip on the back of his collar.

He forcibly turned his son around and kept him in his grip.

" Charles?" his eyes hardened as did his grip, " **Where is your tie?** "

He looked at his father confused. " W-wha-"

" **WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR TIE?!"** he bellowed.

He flinched at his father's booming voice. Trembling, he looked down at his shirt, and noticed the tie he normally wore with his school attire was gone. " I-I-"

" You **lost** it. **You fucking lost it!** How the hell do you lose a tie when it's supposed to be around your fucking neck?!"

" Dad, it's not my fault! I got in a fight with Leonard today! He must've yanked it off!" Charles shouted back with pleading eyes.

He was silent for a moment, finally noticing the bruises adorning his son's face. "...You didn't **lose** , did you?!"

Charles stared at his father in silence before his eyes fell to the floor. His reaction said it all. Rudolph shook his head. " Unbelievable." His voice was dripping in disappointment, " Fucking GREAT! You're a fucking embarrassment!"

Charles kept his eyes trained to the floor, the frown on his face deepened.

" I did not come to America with nothing but the **clothes on my back** to end up with a little shit like you. Can't keep your own in a fight then lose the one tie you got! Money doesn't grow on trees, Charles. I don't have the money to keep buying shit for your ungrateful ass..."

Charles, fist clenched and at his sides, looked to the side before looking up at his father who was still ranting. Everyday was like this. There was always something he did, no matter how small, that made him a disgrace to their family name. He would be lying if he said it didn't hurt, if he didn't in some way want his father's approval. Just a little. But there was a part of him, every time something like this happened, that would slowly unhinge. His blood would boil. His temper would slowly begin to show.

Breathe Charles...BREATHE!

He took a deep breath through his nose. He was beginning to lose control of himself. And at this point, whatever he does in the next few moments will be completely out of his control.

" We don't have the money?" he said under his breath. Rudolph stopped ranting. He turned to Charles, eyebrows slightly raised at his son's small outburst." We don't have money for ANYTHING because you'd rather spend it on smokes and booze. Don't put that on me! If anything, it's your fault!" Charles finished, shouting the last sentence. For some reason, that little rant of his left him breathless. He shifted his gaze back to his feet as he caught his breath, waiting for his father's response.

Should he look up? Should he?

...

 **THWAP!**

"Aaah!"

The moment he looked up, his father's fist had slammed into the side of his mouth. The only eye contact he had was with the hard wooden floor, now stained red with the blood leaking from his busted lip.

" Get up."

Don't get up, Charles.

" **Get up**."

Don't Get UP.

He managed to get his trembling body off the ground. It was a struggle. His face throbbed. The pain was excruciating. Charles guessed he was being too slow. Rudolph lost his patience and grabbed the boy by his hair. He didn't cry out like before, he just clenched his seething jaw. Grabbing his chin, Charles was forced to face his father who was well over 6'. Being a measly 4' 6", his neck began to tense up from being forced in an uncomfortable position.

Rudolph smirked, his eyes filled with rage.

".. **Du kleiner Scheißer**."( _...You little shit._ ) The smirk disappeared, but the rage remained. " **Was gibt dir das Recht, so mit mir zu sprechen**?" ( _What gives you the right to speak to me that way?)_

Charles almost clawed at his father's hands. His neck felt like a spreading wildfire. His voice as he plead was hoarse from the straining.

" Papa, es brennt. " ( _Dad, it burns._ ) He managed to choke out, " Es tut mir Leid. Es tut mir Leid! Ich werde nicht wieder so mit dir sprechen! Bitte lass mich gehen!" ( _I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I won't speak to you that way again! Please let me go!)_ He panted.

His father pushed him away, finally freeing the child from his hold. Charles gripped the stair railing, keeping himself upright. He coughed. Gulping down the last bit of his beer, Rudolph pointed one last threatening finger at his son. " Remember, I brought you into this world," his face was calm, "I could take you right the fuck out..."

" **Now, get out of my sight**."

* * *

" I hate you! I HATE YOU!"

Charles's room was filled with the sound of his angered breathing, the violent thumps of his fists smashing into his pillow, and the long string of curses that followed each hit.

" Fucking piece of shit! I hope you burn!" he gritted his teeth. His fingers, driven into the pillow's sides, hurt from being held together for so long. He eventually let go. The cloth of the pillow case was wrinkled and deformed from the attack. He stared down at the innocent thing. It was always the receiver of Charles's aggression. His own personal punching bag. He somewhat felt bad for the thing. It had to put up with the anger issues he developed over the years. It was the only way to get his anger out. It was the only thing that helped him relax when drawing or music wouldn't. Sometimes he would pretend the pillow was his father, Leonard, or anyone else that he generally hated with a passion.

He laid down, resting his head on the poor pillow. Sometimes, he wondered what life would be like if all of the people that brought him pain were to suddenly drop dead. Would he feel liberated? Or would he just feel more alone than he already did?

He re-positioned himself so he could stare at the ceiling.

He didn't know.

After a long silence, he decided to get up to check on his wounds. Everything stopped hurting after a while. The right side of his face was pretty much numb at this point. The swelling had gone down, but the bruising had spread and now covered the entirety of his right jawline and a bit of his cheek.

"...great."

Maybe a little drawing would make him feel better. He grabbed his backpack and pulled out his notebook. He never had an actual sketchbook. He usually resorted to using his school notebook. In the mix of math problems, there was always a little crude sketch of something he saw throughout his day or something he imagined in his mind.

As he flipped through the pages trying to find a clean surface to scribble on, he'd make little glances at stuff he already drew. There was the large oak tree that stood outside his window, there was his teacher Miss Donna, a dead squirrel he saw in the middle of the road that one time.

He let out a small chuckle. Sometimes he couldn't help himself. He continued flipping through the mixture of school work and sketches until one of them stopped him in his tracks. His eyes slightly widened in shock at what he saw. This one was from today. It was a small drawing in the margin of the page. It was a girl. The slanted eyes, heart shape face, and the tiny dot resting above her upper lip made her easy to recognize.

It was Tiffany.

He rested his face in his hands. "...goddamnit."

He was thinking about her again. STOP THINKING ABOUT HER! He did the right thing telling her to get lost. She knew too much as it was. If anything, she shouldn't be trusted. What was so great about him anyway? He had nothing for her to gain. He was the scary loner kid who sat by himself and had no friends. He had nothing to offer.

But...

.

.

.

Maybe...

Maybe she saw something he didn't.

The one person who actually wanted to get to know him, who seemed to genuinely feel some form of care for him, he ignored and pushed her away.

He set down his notebook, and went back to staring at his ceiling.

...Maybe he should do something about it.

His eyes fluttered closed.

" Yeah...maybe I should."

* * *

...

It was quiet in Miss Donna's fourth grade class. They were working on a timed math worksheet. Three digit multiplication. It was no problem for Charles. Things like this came pretty easy to him. He finished his worksheet in five minutes. Tiffany, from what he could see, was struggling a little. Obviously not being able to do it in her head, she resorted to counting on her fingers and doing scratch work in the margin of the page. Charles looked over to Miss Donna. She was busy reading a book. " Catcher in the Rye" it said. Then he looked to Tiffany. When he walked into class, she was already seated in the desk next to his. She didn't try to talk to him. She didn't even look at him. Her hair was like a long dark brown veil, hiding her face from everyone.

" Times almost up, kids. Finish whatever problem you're working on. I'm coming to pick up the worksheets." Miss Donna announced, setting the book down on her desk. Tiffany's fingers tensed up around the pencil. She wasn't finished. Charles took a peak at her worksheet. She had a good seven problems left to do. Maybe he could help. Miss Donna always picked up papers one row at a time. Starting with the row right by her desk which was all the way on the other side of the room, away from Charles. There's around thirty kids in the class so it gives him enough time to do what he planned to do.

He took a deep breath before whispering to her, " _Hey_."

She hesitated before slowly turning her head in his direction. Just enough for him to see her profile. She looked confused. She probably was asking herself why was he talking to her? Yesterday he said he didn't want anything to do with her. Her look of confusion went into that of shock when she saw Charles discreetly slide his worksheet over to her.

She looked at Charles, now fully facing him. He gave her curt nod. Her eyes shifted from him to the paper then back to him before hesitantly copying each answer. Fortunately for them, she finished in the nick of time. She whispered a quick, " thanks ".

Instead of saying 'you're welcome', he leaned in and whispered, " _Meet me at the old jungle gym at recess._ "

Eyebrows raised, she stared at him for a few moments before giving a quiet "okay".

A few moments after that, it was silent between them again. Miss Donna began teaching the last subject before lunch.

Tiffany went back to staring down at her notebook with her hair hiding her face.

* * *

No one really went over to the old jungle gym anymore. The gym had been standing there since the school opened in the 20s. The once vibrant red paint dulled to a dirty brown, almost matching with the rust patches. The metal pipes creaked and clanged as Charles climbed his way to the top. He never played on it. He just liked to climbed to the top sometimes to relax. To get away from everything. To collect his thoughts.

Hearing two quick clangs, Charles looked down to see Tiffany at the bottom of the jungle gym, tapping on of the pipes to get his attention. Judging by her hesitance, he could tell she didn't want to climb up. He didn't blame her. The wobbliness of the bars always made him skeptical of its sturdiness whenever he climbed up.

" It's okay, I'm coming down."

He climbed down the jungle gym with ease.

Once reaching the ground, he turned to Tiffany and grabbed her hand, pulling her inside. He stopped in the center of the mound and sat down on one the bars. Tiffany sat on the one across from him.

They were quiet for a while. Tiffany couldn't keep eye contact with him. Her eyes were trained on her twiddling thumbs. Charles let out a sigh, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve.

" You're probably wondering why I had you come here after what happened yesterday..." She looked up. Her jaw clenched. " You probably think I'm a real asshole doin' this confusing shit, but I couldn't stop thinking about what happened. I couldn't stop feeling bad. I had to talk to you. I had to do **something**."

Her jaw trembled as a tear dripped from her eye. " I...I just." She wiped it way with the back of her hand."...I just wanted to be your friend."

" I know..." he let out a long breath. " If it wasn't obvious already, I'm not used to **this**." he motioned to Tiffany and himself. " No one ever really wants to get to know me. I'm just Creepy Charlie Ray to them. The kid born to a plumber and the town whore. The kid no one likes."

"..." At this point, Tiffany's eyes had softened. "...I like you."

He let out a small chuckle in disbelief, "...why? Why me of all people? You could make friends with anyone here, but you picked me."

Tiffany tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before making direct eye contact. " When I saw you, I felt something draw me to you. Like a , you know, a bond. A **connection**! It was something I've never really felt before. And what happened yesterday, I realized why. You're like me."

" Like you?" He was confused. What did she mean by **like him**? He thought they were almost complete opposites. " What do you mean...like you?"

His eyebrows slowly raised as he watched her reach for the lining of her dress and pull; revealing painful welts on her thighs. Obviously from a belt. The slight bruising indicated they were fresh. He couldn't look away. There were moments where he believed what happened to him was for a reason. That the physical and mental beatings were because he deserved it. But Tiffany? What could she have done to deserve this? Who would do something like that to someone like her?

" My sister. " was all she said before covering her legs back up. " But that's not the only thing. Even though you spent most of the times we were together ignoring me, I noticed a lot of things about you. The way you care what people think, but don't at the same time. How you learn things so easily. How you just...go with your **gut** no matter how terrified you are..."

Charles just looked on in awe. No wonder she was so persistent. Her walking with him, talking to him, wanting to be his friend. It was because she saw herself in him. Nothing like that has ever really happened to him before. He was so used to being the disappointment, the disgrace, the let down. So used to people gaining his trust, taking it, dangling it in his face, then shattering it against the pavement. Now here she was. This girl who actually liked him, who proved to show genuine care for him...

.

.

.

It's honestly hard to believe.

" I mean, when you punched Leonard in his mouth! **WOW**! I'd kill to be like that-" Noticing Charles's awestruck expression, she stopped herself before she could say anything else. She blushed a deep red as she hid her face with her hair.

" I mean..." she glanced to the side, picking at the rust patch on a nearby pole. " I **wish** I could be more like that, ya know? Like you. Before I pushed Leonard over, I was really scared to jump in. But I thought to myself ' What would Charles do?' You'd jump in without fear even if there was a possibility of you failing. So I did."

He sat there for a moment. His face glowed its very own shade of red. This was a new thing; having someone think so highly of him. He honestly didn't know how to handle it.

" Well..." he started sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, " What happened with you and Leonard was pretty something." Thinking about it, it really was crazy how she stuck up for him. " No one's ever really done that for me before."

" I'd do it again."

Feeling his chest tighten and his breath hitch, a small smile hesitantly spread across Charles's face. The first real smile in a long time.

" Really?" He asked. It came out like a whisper. His hand gripped the chest of his shirt.

" Yeah." she replied, smiling back at him.

His heart was pounding in his chest, and the smile Tiffany flashed him made it worse.

He wondered what he should do now.

Removing his hand from his shirt, he stuck it out to her. It shook a bit as he said one word.

"...Friends?"

Smile growing, she eagerly gripped his hand in a firm handshake.

" Friends."

 **DRIIIIIING! DRIIIIIING!**

The two kids turned their heads to the sound of the school bell.

Charles grabbed Tiffany's hand to help her exit the jungle gym.

" Guess we gotta go in. Don't wanna be late for class." Charles said, beginning his stride to lead her through the pipes.

" Wait! Wait! Wait!" He felt Tiffany hold him back. " I almost forgot!"

Charles turned to Tiffany, wondering what she had as she quickly pulled something from her dress pocket. It was his tie.

" You left it on the playground yesterday." Taking a step towards him, she wrapped the tie around his neck, tying it perfectly.

" There." She grinned. " Perfect."

He looked down at his tie then to Tiffany. He felt his heart beating again. He bit the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the tears that threatened to flow from his eyes. God, why was he crying? He wiped away the stray tears that managed to come through. Taking her hand again, they left the maze of pipes. They watched the stampede of kids rush through the cafeteria doors as they walked to meet up with them. The two were a few feet away from the crowd when Charles stopped walking. Tiffany looked over her shoulder at him.

" What's wrong?" she asked.

" Nothing I just..." He squeezed her hand. " B-before we go..."

He took a hesitant step forward.

Then another until him and Tiffany were an inch apart.

He took a deep breath and did something he hasn't done in a long time.

.

.

.

He hugged her.

He hugged her tightly.

He didn't care if anyone saw.

" ...thank you."

He buried his face in the crook of her neck. It took Tiffany a few moments to register what was happening. She slowly wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her cheek on the side of his head.

" You're welcome."


	3. Her Sister Pamela, His Mother Sorcha

Simply Breathtaking

CHAPTER THREE

* * *

Her Sister Pamela, His Mother Sorcha

* * *

" It doesn't look that bad, does it?"

Lightly touching her cheek, Charles was busy examining a bruise. He noticed it when he came to class that morning. Tiffany had looked up from her notebook to greet him, obviously forgetting the festering blemish that stained her cheek. It caught him off guard. After lunch, he immediately grabbed Tiffany's hand and led her to their now usual spot: the old jungle gym.

He turned her head to the side to get a better look. " It's pretty bad, Tiffany." He added a small bit of pressure. The dark blue color of her injured skin deepened under his touch. Whatever happened probably happened right before school. " Your sister?" he asked. This was a recurring theme with his new friend. Almost every time they met up, there would be a new mark on her, and her sister was always the culprit. He tried to get her to talk about it many times, but she wouldn't budge. The most she revealed about her sister was that her name was Pamela.

She winced before nodding. He turned her head back to its original position. His eyes locked with hers. If her face wasn't being held in Charles's fingers, she'd shrink under his gaze. His stone, cold stare was nothing but intimidating.

" Tiffany, how long have we been friends?" He asked, his hands now in his lap.

Fidgeting with her hair, she stumbled over her words.

"...A-A few weeks I think. "

"Now, I'm not used to this kind of thing, but aren't friends supposed to tell each other when something's wrong. I mean...you can't keep meeting up with me with all these cuts and bruises and expect me to keep my mouth shut."

She didn't respond.

He felt bad for pushing her like this, but he was tired of seeing her hurt everyday and not getting an explanation. She was always so eager to aid him despite his protests. Always eager to be let in. And here he was trying to return the favor. Trying to get her to open the door, but she has a vice grip on the doorknob.

C'mon Tiffany." he begged.

Again, she didn't respond.

He let out a sigh and slouched against the metal bars.

 _'I have to get her to talk._ ' he thought to himself with his arms folded across his chest. ' _I just gotta think of something.'_

He gripped his knees, pushed himself from his spot, and sat next to her. Awkwardly wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close. Close enough for her to rest her head on his shoulder.

With his temple resting atop her head, he took a deep breath. " Listen..." He gave her a small squeeze. " You don't have to tell me **everything**."

" But I have to tell you something?" Tiffany finished.

He nodded. " So here's what we're gonna do."

Tiffany's deep brown eyes peeked from under her bangs.

" You can ask me **anything** you want..." He glanced down at her. " And I'll answer it. At any time. No matter the circumstances."

She sat up.

" Anything?"

" Anything. Call it a compromise."

Judging by that vibrant look in her eye, he got her. Hook, Line, and Sinker. If he could, he'd give himself a pat on the back.

Tiffany opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her. " **But**!" He held up a finger then pressed it to her forehead, causing her to flinch. " **You** have to tell me about your sister. No take backs." He used a bit of force to push her head back. The ghost of a smirk came through as he saw his friend's jutting bottom lip.

" I guess that's fair." She said, rubbing her forehead. " And by anything, you mean **ANYTHING**?"

He let out a snort." Hehe yeah sure. Whatever you want." he replied, amused.

He grabbed her chin.

" **Now tell me**."

She shook her face from his grip. Her lips spread into a straight line as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "...okay."

" Pamela and me don't really have a good relationship. " She started. "She yells at me. Calls me names. She hits me." Her eyebrows scrunched together in what seemed to be annoyance as she ran a hand down her bruised cheek. " But...but I don't know why. She hates me for some reason, but she won't tell me why. I don't know. I-I must've done something. It can't be for no reason." Her speech sped up as her annoyance grew.

Charles scratched the back of his neck. He can understand what Tiffany was going through. Sure, he didn't have any siblings, but he did have a father who seemed to hate him as much as Pamela hated Tiffany. He would stay up at night, wondering to himself if his father had a legitimate reason for doing the things he did. He believed it. But Tiffany? What could Tiffany have done to deserve constant abuse from her sister's hand? This was something he questioned in his mind ever since the start of their friendship.

" You ever thought about telling your mom? "

" I can't talk to my mother." She replied almost frantic like. " I mean...I TRIED to tell her, but she didn't believe me. She said I was exaggerating and that fighting is just a normal sibling thing. 'Friends come and go, Sisters are forever.'" she answered , shaking her head.

" Well, what about your dad?" He asked.

He watched her fingers pick at the stray thread of her dress " I haven't seen or talked to my dad since my mom moved us here after my ninth birthday."

" And when was that?"

"...six months ago."

Charles's entire demeanor softened. His throat tightened.

"...Do you miss him?" Charles asked.

" A lot."

" I'm sorry 'bout your dad." Obviously, he couldn't relate. But knowing she had someone who cared for her forced out of her life made him feel bad.

" It's okay." She glumly responded. " I learned to live with it."

' _But you shouldn't have to_.' He nodded, deciding to keep the comment to himself. They sat together in silence. Shoulder to shoulder. Just looking forward, watching the other kids play from the safety of the jungle gym. If there was nothing to say to each other, there was only silence. The only thing that could be heard was their breathing, almost in synch, over the muffled sounds of their peers clowning around on the playground.

" I thought my sister liked him too...our dad." Tiffany faced Charles's profile, breaking the silence. " I used to think that us leaving him was the reason she was so mean to me. That she was taking it out on me to make herself feel better about it."

" But that's not it?" They were now facing each other.

" No."

" How?"

She turned back to the kids." Because she told me. She hated our dad just as much as she hates me. The reason why is what she won't tell me." She leaned forward, placed her elbow on her knee, and rested her cheek in her palm. " It's always like this. She always says WHAT she does, but never WHY she does it...and I **HATE** it. Like, what's the point?!"

" I mean what's wrong with me? What was wrong with him?" Her head dropped, she ran her hand through her hair. She turned away from him and rubbed her eyes. " I try my best to be a good sister, ya know? I try my best to not get on her bad side, but everything I do sets her off."

Little teardrops dripped from her eyes, leaving a splattered pattern on her skirt.

He reached out to her. " Ya know..." He place his index finger under her chin and turned her head to look at him. He raised her chin until they had complete eye contact. He passed her a somewhat empathizing smile. " Even though you're pushy, nosy, and your constant rambling and talking grates on my nerves something fierce... "

Tiffany glared in slight offense.

" Hold on I'm not done." He pressed a finger to her lips before she could say anything. " And despite all that, in my opinion, I think you're pretty alright. And remember, I hate people. So whenever your sister got something to say, just think in your head 'Hey at least the creepy kid at my school likes me.' And if that doesn't work...I don't know what else to fuckin' tell ya."

Tiffany laughed, shaking her head. " Charles Ray, you are something else."

He smiled and shrugged." I'll take that as a compliment."

Tiffany opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but was cut off by the shrill sound of the bell.

 **DRIIIIIIIIIIIIIING**

Without saying a word, he grabbed her hand, just like he always did, and led her to the cafeteria entrance where their peers huddled together. Once the doors opened, everyone went inside for their last subject of the day.

It was time for dismissal. The entire student body were outside waiting for the busses to arrive so they could go home. Charles's bus hadn't arrived yet so he just stood there rocking on the heels of his tennis shoes. He looked around, wondering to himself if Tiffany had already caught her bus. Craning his neck as he tried his best to see over the other kids, he finally caught a glimpse of Tiffany's mop of dark brown hair. She was standing near one of the pillars. Her arms were folded and her face was held in solace. The look on her face made him want to go over there to see if she was okay.

He took a step to her direction, but halted at the sight of someone taller than both Tiffany and himself. Judging by her resemblance to Tiffany, that had to be Pamela. Her dark brown, nearly black, eyes matched her sour expression. She slightly bent herself to Tiffany's level. He was too far away to hear anything being said, but by the look of Tiffany's expression getting grimmer by the second, Charles could tell that Pamela wasn't saying anything good.

Before he could do or say anything, Pamela roughly grabbed Tiffany by the arm and started to drag her away from the crowd. Curious and also concerned, he followed them.

Charles found himself near the back of the school. He took a few more steps.

" Okay, Tiffany."

He pressed his back to the wall and slowly peaked around the corner.

With her arms folded, Pamela was towering over Tiffany.

She unfolded her arms and stretched one out to her.

" Hand it over."

Tiffany looked up, confused. " Hand what over?"

Tiffany watched her older sister's face twist into a scowl. " My pink flower-child wide-dress headband. I **know** you took it!"

" But I didn't take it." She took a step back.

Pamela grabbed Tiffany's face with great force and pushed her into the wall. Charles jumped, forcing himself back. He wanted to help. He really did. But what could he do? Her sister was much bigger than him and possibly could be stronger too. If he tried to intervene, it would most likely end bad for both of them.

Once Tiffany's back hit the wall, Pamela grabbed her by the collar." Don't you fucking lie to me!"

" I didn't take it! Pammy, believe me!"

" THEN WHAT HAPPENED TO IT?!"

" I DON'T KNOW!" She sobbed.

" TIFFANY, TELL ME!"

" I SWEAR TO GOD I DIDN'T TAKE IT!"

Fed up, Pamela threw Tiffany to the ground.

" Whatever." she sneered, turning her back on her. She walked over to the bike rack, unlocked the chain, and hopped onto her own bike.

Tiffany sat up. " W...Where are you going?"

" Friend's house."

" Y-you're not gonna take me home?" She scrambled to her feet. " You're supposed to take me home!" She quickly made her way to Pamela who was already hiking up the kickstand.

" You can ride the bus."

" But mom said she doesn't want us riding the buses."

" Oh well. You got feet." She placed her foot on one of the peddles. " Walk."

" Bu-But you can't just leave me!" Tiffany shouted. She grabbed Pamela's shoulder. " Pammy!"

" Get your hand off me!" Her fingers crushed Tiffany's in a vice grip. Tiffany cried out. Charles watched her knees buckle in reaction to the ache. Her legs shook as she struggled to stay upright. Her eyes welled up with tears.

" But mom sa-"

" I DON'T CARE WHAT MOM SAID!" Pamela screeched, using all her strength in one hand to push Tiffany away. She fell back and landed on the hard concrete. Pamela, completely unfazed by her younger sister's crying and pain-stricken expression, began to ride away.

" Mom's going out with her new boyfriend so she's either coming home late or not at all. You got enough time to get there. Keys under the ficus." She paused. " And my headband better be on my dresser when I get home."

She turned her head just a bit. Tiffany could see the malice glow in her sister's dark eyes.

" **Or else**."

Then she was gone.

Tiffany let out a long sigh as she watched her sister leave. She tried her best to sit up but stopped herself once a streak of pain shot through her arm. She hissed, grabbing the injured limb. The fall gave her a long abrasion from the back of her hand to the beginning of her elbow. She cursed to herself as she examined it. Hearing footsteps, she glanced up from her wound.

Charles placed his hands in his pockets once he got close enough. " Wow...all that over a headband. " He grabbed her uninjured arm and helped her up. " And I thought **YOU** were dramatic."

" Shut up." Tiffany pouted. "...You saw all that?"

" Yeeup. Every second of it." He answered simply. Leaving it at that, Charles clasped their hands together and began pulling her away towards the front of the school. " Let's go. I'll take you home."

" How are you gonna do that?" she asked. Charles turned to her.

" You're gonna ride the bus with me to my house." He pointed a thumb in the direction of the buses. Then he pointed to her." I'm gonna patch you up." Then gestured to himself." Then I'm gonna take you home on my bike."

" But what about your parents?" She was worried and she had every right to be. She had asked about his parents when he came to school one day with a bandaged bruise under his eye, but he was adamant on keeping his mouth shut. Though she was annoyed he wouldn't say anything, she took his word(or lack of a word)for it.

" Don't worry." Charles reassured." My dad's never home on the weekends and my mom works night shifts. So the house'll be **completely** empty."

"hmmmm." Tiffany eyed the slowly arriving buses and hummed nervously. " B-but my mom said..."

" Tiffany." He grabbed her shoulders. " Would you rather walk all the way home by yourself which I would like to add is very fucking dangerous and will take a super long time with your tiny little legs or come with me, your best and only friend, and let me take you home? "

" I'm taller than you." She glowered, obviously insulted by the leg comment.

Charles let out a chuckle, " And my legs are still longer than yours. How tragic." He joked, pulling her towards the buses. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she rolled her eyes accompanied by a slowly growing smile, and followed him.

* * *

" Wait! Wait! Wait!" Charles shouted as he chased down the bus. Fortunately for him, the bus driver took pity on the tiny boy and stopped for him, making the bus come to a screeching halt.

Charles ran up to the entrance, panting. " Th...Thank you!" The bus driver gave him a nod.

" You're lucky I saw you, Ray. If I didn't, you'd be walking right now." She called from her seat.

" Yeah I know." He said, pulling Tiffany closer towards the bus steps. " Is it okay if my friend rides the bus?" He asked her. He gave her the most pleading gaze he could muster. Nonchalant, his bus driver gestured for them both to hop on.

" It won't take money from my paycheck. Get in." She smiled.

Grateful, the kids quickly entered the bus. Charles led Tiffany to his usual seat. As they shuffled their ways to it, he could see a few kids whisper to their seat-mates about this strange site. Charles Ray? With a friend? And that friend is a girl? They couldn't believe it. The boy tried his best to ignore it as he scooted into the raggedy seat with Tiffany scooting in alongside him.

Tiffany looked around. " So this's what a school bus is like."

Charles shifted his gaze from the changing scenery outside the window to her. " What, you've never been on a bus before?"

She shook her head. " Nope. My mom hates school buses. She thinks their dirty and I'll catch a disease."

Charles let out a snort. " I hate to say it, but your mom ain't wrong. I mean, lookit this thing!" He lifted his hand to gesture at their surroundings. He wasn't wrong. The bus was a heap of shit. It was old, rickety, and the paint job has been making a steady transition from a bright, sunny yellow to the remnants of a crusty mustard stain back since 1942.

Tiffany couldn't disagree. " Yeah, it **is** pretty grody." She said as she cringed at the sticky floor. The heel of her maryjane got stuck to some type of gunk that was there. She tried her best to pull her foot from the muck, but she just couldn't get it.

Noticing this, Charles leaned down to help her. Gripping her ankle with one hand and lightly but firmly lifting her heel with the other, he managed to get her foot free. " Grody is an understatement." he grinned. He leaned his head back, letting it hit the seat's leather hide. He lazily turned his head in her direction as he felt the bus stop to drop someone off. " Hey."

" Yeah?" Tiffany looked up from her lap.

" Where do you live, exactly? I can't bring you home if I don't know where to go." It wouldn't be wise for two fourth graders to get lost in Charles's neighborhood.

She popped up with an " Oh!" remembering he was taking her home. " I live on Cathedral Boulevard."

His eyes slightly widened. " You live on the good side?" His neighborhood was so big that the different parts of it seemed like they were their own separate neighborhoods. Cathedral Boulevard was in what he considered the "nice" side of the neighborhood hence why he called it the good side.

" The good side?" Tiffany tilted her head. " That's what you call it?" Feeling a laugh crawl up her throat, she tried her best to keep her mouth closed.

" Well...it's good if I compare it to everything else. The entire neighborhood is heaping mound of shit. It's like comparing a meth head to a crack head. One is worse than the other, but they're both bad all together."

Tiffany laughed harder, covering her mouth to muffle it when she noticed kids peering at her from their seats. Charles's serious yet also joking demeanor never failed to amuse her. Watching her try to control her laughter as he leaned against the window, he quietly laughed along with her.

* * *

The tiny pebbles crunched under the children's feet as they made their way up the gravel driveway to Charles's home. Tiffany eyed the quaint two story home in slight wonder. The way Charles used to describe it, she had the idea that it was a frumpy old shack in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't the best looking home, but she thought it was quite charming. With the giant oak tree sitting in the front and the junk pile on the other side, it was, in her opinion, pleasing to the eye.

" I like it." She said, following him up the porch. She waited behind him as he pulled his house key from his back pocket. He peeked at her from over his shoulder with a raised brow and cracked a questioning smile before unlocking the front door.

He signaled for Tiffany to follow him inside.

Just like Charles said, no one was home. The only indication that someone was recently there was the cold almost empty beer bottle that sat on the kitchen counter. " My dad just left I can tell." Charles said, pouring the leftover contents into the sink and throwing the bottle away. He started to walk up the stairs.

" Wait. Where are you going?" Tiffany asked. Even though this was her friend's home, she still was nervous about being left alone. Charles disappeared from the foyer.

" I'm just getting my first aid kit and some other stuff!" He called, already turning the corner. " Just make yourself comfy, I'll be back in a jiff!"

"...Okay!" she hollered back. She sauntered over to the sofa and sat down. She ran her fingertips down the white doilies that adorned the couch's arm.

Nice.

She took a look around. It wasn't that bad. It just looked like a normal house. Maybe it was because no one was home. Maybe the only time the house was the way Charles described was when everyone was in it. She let out a long hum before spotting a few framed pictures above the dinner table behind her. One that really caught her attention was the largest one. It was a big painted portrait of Charles and two other people that Tiffany assumed were his parents. She could tell that Charles got most of his looks from his father taking into account their similar icy orbs and sharp facial features, but at the same time still shared some resemblance to his mother with their identical shade of russet brown hair and round expressive eyes.

She took a closer look at Charles's mother. In each picture on the wall, she had a faraway look in her eye. It was even more evident in the larger portrait. Her face had a sullen look to it. Her lips were set in an almost permanent partial frown. It was the look of a feeling Tiffany knew she felt before but couldn't describe. A look also seen adorning Charles's face whilst deep in thought.

" Hey."

She turned around. Charles was back with the first aid kit stacked on top of what looked like a large envelope.

" I found it." He sat the kit down on the sofa, revealing the other item in his hands: a record sleeve.

On the cover were five well dressed men. " The Animals" written in bold, attractive lettering sat above them.

'Number one hit single 'The House of the Rising Sun'.' written under them.

" The Animals?" Tiffany questioned as she watched her friend walk to the large cupboard across the room. After rummaging through it, he pulled out a record player.

" Yeah." He grunted. The weight irritated his arms as he carried it to the coffee table. He carefully sat it down and plugged it into the outlet closest to it." They're one of my favorite bands. I listen to this song to help me relax sometimes. It's my dad's so I only use it when I know he isn't coming home." He carefully lifted the needle and unsheathed the record. He placed it on the turntable and lowered the needle onto it. The record rotated, the needle slightly scratched the vinyl surface, and music began to play throughout the home.

He took a seat next to Tiffany who was patiently waiting for him and rolled up his sleeves. " Lemme see what we got here." He gently grabbed her arm and turned it over. The skin had already started the healing process. Flecks of scabs were in random spots along her arm, but around the scabs were little bits of yellow. Early signs of infection.

He instructed her to keep her arm up as he opened the first aid kid and took out a bottle of peroxide, some cotton swabs and bandages. " This is gonna burn." He dipped a cotton swab into the peroxide and started to lightly dab it onto the wound, starting at the bottom and making his way to the top. Tiffany tried her best to not react to the pain, looking to other parts of the room to keep her mind off of the searing discomfort. In one of the corners of the room, she noticed something covered in a black tarp.

She looked at Charles who was now finishing wrapping up her arm, humming along to the music.

" What's that?" she asked him.

He stopped humming. " What's what?"

She used her free hand to point to the object in question. " That over there."

Without lifting his head, his gaze shifted from Tiffany's arm to what she was pointing at. " Under the tarp? That's a piano." He answered quickly. He lifted her arm and turned it over a few times, making sure the bandage was secure.

"...can I see it?" she asked, hoping that her friend would be willing to let her. His almost deadpan expression changed to a look of uncertainty. For some reason, a wave of nervousness washed over him. He didn't know why he felt it, but he did. What could go wrong with showing her the piano? " hmmmm..."

"...Sure." he sighed.

He got up and went over to the record player and lifted the needle, cutting the music off mid song, and slipped the record back into its cover.

Letting out a quiet ' yay', Tiffany followed him.

Cackling a bit at Tiffany's "excitement", he grabbed the edge of the tarp and pulled, revealing a large grande piano. The white and black of the keys reflected beautifully off the rich mahogany. The pedals glistened gold. It was gorgeous.

" Wow." she whispered, running a hand along the wood. " Who's it for?"

" Me." he answered simply. He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

" So you know how to play?" Tiffany asked.

He gave her a nod.

She shuffled her feet whilst adorning a look of hesitancy. " Would you mind...playing something for me?" She held her hands behind her back. " I..if you don't want to, that's fine."

" Nah it's cool. It's my practice time anyway." He reassured, sitting down on the bench. " And we still got **PLENTY** of time to get you home."

He patted the spot next to him. The spot was immediately taken by Tiffany, who was very eager to see what her friend could do.

He sat there, contemplating on what to play. His fingers lightly resting on the keys. He wanted to do something good, but not something that he'd fuck up in the first few keys, forcing him to start all over. But nothing came to mind.

'Guess I'm gonna have to wing it.' Finally pressing down on the keys, he began to play the first note.

Then the next.

Then the next.

And soon the sound of the piano replaced the silence that sat between them moments ago. She watched in awe as his left and right hand worked together to create one coherent sound. The song was mostly slow paced but had parts where he had to play a little faster and then slow back down. She looked up from the keys to look at Charles. To her surprise, he was completely engulfed in the music. His eyes were closed and his face was the calmest she'd ever seen it.

Then all of a sudden.

he stopped.

His hands pressed down on the keys, holding them there, prolonging the chord until it died down. He was pressing so hard, the tips of his fingers were as white as the keys. His eyes slowly opened and he stared. He just stared. Tiffany waved an uneasy hand in front of him, but to no avail. His unfocused gaze stayed.

" ...Charles?" she placed a hand on top of his still one. " Are you okay?"

His hands trembled as he lowered them into his lap. He blinked a few times.

What the fuck was that? He turned to Tiffany. She looked worried. He didn't know what to do.

His eyes shifted from Tiffany to the piano numerous times as his already quivering hands shook even more resulting in him becoming a stuttering mess." Uh...Uh...I...I-I." He got up from the bench and scrambled away from her, picking up the record player and putting it back where it belonged. " I should really get you home."

He was moving around so fast, Tiffany didn't know how to keep up.

" Charles, what's the matt-?"

" **I need to get you home!** " He bellowed. His back was to her so he couldn't see her reaction. To be honest, there was no way for Charles to think about his friend's well being as he spewed every profanity he knew at himself from within his subconscious. He should've known better than to play that damn song. Out of all the fucking songs wandering aimlessly through his little head, he had to choose **that fucking song!** But he didn't mean to pick it. It just happened!

" I'm...I'm sorry." He muttered. " I just..." He trailed off, biting his lip. His hands balled into fists before collecting himself. He lifted a shaky hand and ran it through his hair. " C'mon." He walked passed her to get to the back door. He refrained from looking at Tiffany who was eyeing him cautiously.

" My bike's in the back."

* * *

It was quiet ride to Tiffany's house. Tiffany held onto Charles as he took a sharp turn on to her street. Numerous times, she had tried to talk to him about what happened back at his house. But her questions and concerns were only met with silence and Charles picking up speed.

Over the reeling of the bike wheels turning, Tiffany shouted a quick " There it is!" as she pointed to a large white house. Charles rode and parked his bike at the porch steps.

Tiffany immediately hopped off and scampered up the steps. While her back was turned, Charles somberly watched her lift the potted plant to retrieve her house key. Anxious, he picked at the patches of rubber glued to his handlebars.

" I...I'll see you Monday, yeah?"

Without saying a word, Tiffany kept her back turned. Her house key an inch away from the door lock.

Crestfallen at his friend's lack of a response, he looked down at his feet.

" Yeah, okay."

He began to pull out of her driveway.

"Charles, wait."

he stopped.

Tiffany turned around, key still firmly in her grip. Her eyebrows were scrunched together and her lips were in a fine line. She looked troubled.

" Back at school, in the jungle gym, you said if I told you about my sister, I could ask you anything I wanted."

"..."

" And now's a good time, I think, for you to uphold your end of the deal." She stepped down from her porch and took a seat on the second to last step. She rested one hand in her lap and patted the spot next to her with the other.

He was hesitant. The hole in his bike's handlebars grew to an excessive size due to his picking. He sighed, laid his bike in the grass, made his way over to Tiffany, and sat down.

Without even glancing at his friend, Charles asked. " What do you wanna know?"

Tiffany closed her eyes then opened them again. "...What happened to you? Ya know, back at your house? What was that?"

"..."

He ran a hand through his hair then looked out at the tree leaves swaying in the breeze. He didn't expect any of this to happen. That he'd be sitting on the porch with someone he considered a friend, getting ready to explain to her things he'd rather not talk about. But he had to at this point. He got her to tell him so much about herself. It's only fair.

'God, I hate fairness sometimes.' He grumbled to himself.

Trying to muster up the courage to speak, he intertwined his fingers in a vice grip, placed his head on top of his clasped hands, and took a deep breath.

"...that song I was playing…" He started. "...was a lullaby my mom used to sing to me when I was younger. I didn't really know what I was playing until the last minute. And when I did, it brought back a bunch of things I felt about her that I didn't want to think about."

" ...how do you feel about your mom?"

Charles lifted his head to look at Tiffany, but then returned his gaze to his intertwined fingers.

"...I don't know." He answered. " I **don't** know how I feel about her. I can't choose. I can't love her and I can't hate her so I'm stuck in the middle. And I know she feels the same."

This brought Tiffany back to the portrait that featured Charles and his parents. She remembered his mother's face and how uncomfortable and far-gone she looked with her hands hovering mere inches from her son's shoulders. Like she wouldn't dare to touch him.

" But why?" she asked.

Charles felt his throat tighten as he answered her question. " ...Because I look like my dad." He choked out. His jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed. " I remember one night when I was five, I asked my mom to sing me to sleep like she always did. I remember her staring at me with this weird look on her face before smiling and tucking me in. When she sang to me, it wasn't like before. She kept stopping and looking down at me before singing again." Charles started picking at the skin around his nails.

Tiffany, without warning, grabbed Charles's hands and held them together. He faltered, passing a sideways glance to her, and mumbled a quick apology before taking them back and placing them in his lap. He kept them together to keep him from picking.

" Hehe." he laughed nervously. " One of my habits." He said as he pulled the cuffs of his sleeves to cover his hands. " That's better."

Tiffany just...well...watched.

It was honestly all she could really do in this moment. What he was telling her was so big. Bigger than anything he's ever told her before. Other days, he would only give her information on his home life in short bursts.

But now…

 **This** was different.

So many thoughts were going through Charles's head. He really shouldn't be doing this. Why was he telling her all this anyway? It's not like she could do anything about it. Maybe he should stop. Yeah. He should stop now before he digs himself into a deeper hole than the one he already dug himself into. Before he's stuck in a bottomless pit of emotions too complicated for his ten year old brain to fully understand.

'...But I have to.' he thought to himself. ' I gotta do it."

"...I-It got weirder." He said after managing to find his voice again. "...after she finally finished the song. She pat me on the head, got up, cut off all the lights, and left me there."

Tiffany kept quiet.

" She just left me there. **Alone.** With **nothing.** Not a 'good night, Charles' or a kiss to the forehead." He had a hardness embedded in his voice. " I tried going to sleep after that, but right after she left, I started to hear my parents fight downstairs."

Feeling the memories come back, he closed his eyes and ran a balled fist up his arm to keep himself calm. He was honestly surprised he managed to keep his cool so far. Normally, he would yell or curse or throw things when his temper got out of control, but it seemed that with Tiffany sitting next to him, just her mere presence is able to keep his most disturbing thoughts at bay.

"...about me."

* * *

 _Charles tossed and turned under his covers as the screaming grew in volume. He glared at the crack in the door his mother left and threw his pillow at it as hard as he could in an attempt to close it._

 _It didn't even budge._

 _He sighed._

 _'How am I supposed to sleep with all that noise.' he muttered to himself as he got up to shut the door. All that yelling was starting to give him a headache. He quickly made his way to his bedroom door and began to gently close it._

 _" You ruin everything!"_

 _Charles stopped._

 _That was his mother's voice._

 _He snuck out of his room and crept to the edge of the stairs. He crouched down near the railing so he could see his parents below._

 _His father looked angry, but also had a twinge of frustration laced in his expression and words. " Me?! I ruined everything?!"_

 _" Everything I've had, you've take and ruin! You've taken everything from me. My life, my family, my son!"_

 _" Take your life...your son?!" He raised his voice. " Woman, quit with your cryptic talk and tell me the fuck is your problem?" Rudolph demanded, grabbing his wife by the shoulders._

 _She roughly pushed him away and turned her back on him. " Have you seen him lately?" she asked. In that moment, both Charles and Rudolph looked confused. " He's starting to act like you. He's starting to LOOK LIKE YOU." She gripped her head in anger. " Soon, he'll start talking like you!"_

 _"...He has no remnants of me anymore. It's like he's not even my son."_

 _" And whose fault is that, Sorcha?!" Rudolph bellowed, " You rarely go near that boy! Like he's a fucking disease! All you do is sit and wallow about the 'life you should've had'" he finished with air quotes. " Maybe if you stayed with your wealthy fucking parents when you were pregnant with him, then you wouldn't be here."_

 _" How dare you! Don't come at me like you care for him knowing you put your hands on him!" She turned to him with a newfound rage in her eyes. " You don't love him! Admit it, you think he's a burden."_

 _Rudolph paused and then laughed. It was a short little cackle." And you don't?"_

 _Then there was silence. Charles's vision blurred and his hands shook more with each passing minute of his mother's lack of response. He felt his entire body tighten._

 _" Well?" Rudolph stood there, waiting for an answer. At his question, Sorcha had completely shut down. " I'm waiting." he smirked._

 _He walked up to her statued form, roughly cradled her face in his hands, and placed a chaste kiss to the bridge of her nose. She flinched under each touch._

 _" That's what I thought." He placed his forehead onto hers and closed his eyes. He held her there for a few moments before shoving her to the ground._

* * *

"...wow." Tiffany scratched the back of her head as Charles sat in silence. He sat back with his arms crossed over his chest. He ran the heel of his shoe into the dirt.

" My dad left right after that. Probably went to a bar or something." His voice was almost like a whisper. " After some minutes, my mom got up and started to head upstairs. She saw me, but...I couldn't look at her. Not after all of that. I felt her pick me up, carry me to my room, and tuck me in again. She kissed my forehead that time, but it felt so wrong. I haven't felt right since."

" I just...I just don't know what to feel or how to feel, ya know?" He looked to her before groaning in frustration. "Ugh! Now you see why I don't wanna talk about this shit. It's just a confusing mess." He said, dropping his face into his hands with a huff. Suddenly, he felt Tiffany's hand rest on his shoulder. He instantly relaxed.

" I'm glad you told me though." She gave him a calming smile.

" Yeah, I'm glad too." He nodded, returning the gesture. And he was right, he was glad he told her. Though he still couldn't fully understand the words that flew from his mouth, it was good that he managed to get the gist of it out of his system. He let out a quick chuckle before turning to Tiffany.

" Now that that's over," He got up from his spot and dusted himself off. Tiffany followed him. " Next time I'm in a 'bad mood', you can leave me be." Reaching up to pinch his friend's cheek, he cackled when she raised a brow.

" You know I won't." She declared as she watched him get on his bike. She smirked when he faced her with narrowed eyes and got closer. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she gave him a small kiss on his cheek.

" Hey!" He shouted, pushing her away. His face flushed a deep red. " Stop that! What'd you go and kiss me for?!" He roughly rubbed his face. All Tiffany could do was place her hand over her mouth to cover her grin as her body shook with laughter.

" Haha I'm sorry." Tiffany said through her giggles. " I couldn't help myself."

Charles rolled his eyes as the red deepened. " Whatever, I'm heading home. I gotta be back before the sun goes down." He said, finally backing out of her driveway. " I'll come pick you up tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow?" She questioned, tilting her head to the side.

" Well, yeah. I gotta play you another song since I kinda sorta fucked up the last one hehe." he sheepishly ran a hand down his neck.

She smiled." yeah okay. I'll see you tomorrow."


End file.
